“Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. Howsomdever, if you should reach t'other side, take an old feller's advice, and don't be foolhardy enough to venter back again. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern.
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